


The Benefits of A Weak Floor

by Fictropes



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Attempt at humour, M/M, Strangers to Lovers, The opposite of a slow burn, meet-chaotic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:09:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27607448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fictropes/pseuds/Fictropes
Summary: He quite literally falls through Dan’s ceiling.
Relationships: Dan Howell/Phil Lester
Comments: 91
Kudos: 215





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> sowwy......
> 
> Beta'd by obviously ahappyphil

He quite literally falls through Dan’s ceiling.

One minute there’s not a hole in his bathroom, the next there is— a hole with a pair of legs.

Dan’s not overly proud of the noise he makes, it’s something his upstairs, currently half in his flat, neighbour will later claim broke the sound barrier. There will be a whole conversation about why that’s wrong, but he won't listen and it’ll haunt Dan forever. 

“Erm.” The legs speak, or the body attached the legs speaks— the mouth, probably. “I forgot I was running a bath and now the floor is like made out of marshmallow.” 

“Ok.” Is all Dan says, because he’s got half ceiling in his shower and he doesn’t really know what to do about that right now. “You good?”

He thinks it must be a shock reaction, that more words should be coming out of his mouth but his brain is about five minutes behind and barely functioning. It’s thinking about showers and his planned wank, not about pale legs and his Landlord throwing a fit when he sees whatever the fuck this is.

“I mean, good as you can be when you’re stuck inside your own floor.” Dan realises then that he is, actually. He’s not just hanging out up there, the precise break of it has left him stranded between two apartments and he’s— Dan’s going to be a fireman, stage a rescue act that might involve broken bones. 

“Is your front door unlocked?” Cos that’s the logical thing, to go upstairs and pull him out that way.

“No.” But obviously logic doesn’t apply today— why would it? “So someone can sneak in whilst i’m in the shower and kill me to death? Home invasion is serious, I hope you lock your door whilst—“

Dan cuts him off there, because as serious as he’s trying to make it, it just.. isn’t. It can’t be. “You know this is like i’m getting a lecture from a pair of legs, yeah?” 

“Well take these legs seriously! Home invasion is serious! Just lock your door. Also help, please?” 

“Just wait there.” Dan is going to have to yank him through and hope for the best, hope he’s not become the apartments secret load bearer and pulling him out will just send it all crashing down.

“I don’t have a choice, really. You’ll find me here for the foreseeable, I can pay you rent.” 

It makes Dan laugh, then turn a bit hysterical because surely this isn’t real. Surely his orgasm was so goddamn powerful it knocked him out and this is all a post-cum concussion dream.

“It’s not funny!” The legs whine, kick a little bit— narrowly avoid causing an actual concussion. Dan grabs him by the ankle, stops the onslaught of violence. He’s got soft skin, so he just takes a moment to serve his own desperate need for human touch— holds on for a second longer than necessary. “Hello, I’m going to starve to death up here.”

“Gonna stop attacking the one person who can save you? Could leave you up there forever.” He threatens, lets go when it crosses over into weirdo territory. 

“Ok, fine. I will lay down my sword legs.” 

“I’ll be two seconds, don’t cause anymore damage.” 

Dan leaves, returns with a pair of pyjama pants cos the legs in his ceiling are properly naked and this man probably deserves at least a little bit of dignity— even if Dan had been enjoying the view. “I’m going to try and yank you through now, just suck in.”

“Curse my thicc—ow!” He yelps, tries to rescue himself from the pinch Dan had just given him. 

“Stop wriggling, for fucks sake. I’m going to have to call in helicopter to get you out. God, how is this my day.” He’s going to have to go a bit further up, caress his thighs and— get his mind out of the gutter. 

He just thinks this is the weirdest setup to a porno,  _the worlds largest glory hole._

“Would stop if you stop tickling, why do your hands feel like actual shovels? They’re too big, oh my god—no, don’t actually— no. Stop tickling!” Now it does sound like the opening of _something_ , but Dan thinks he’s allowed two seconds of evil considering this dude is literally attempting to rob him via ceiling— probably.

“Personal question.” Dan relents, because he swears he just felt something. “Is your dick out up there? I know I did- like did the whole pyjama thing, but I could only pull them up so far.”

“That is a personal question! I refuse to answer it.” He hears some shuffling around, imagines it’s this floor goblin crossing his arms in a huff.

“Look, come on, work with me here. I just need to know if I pull you down whether or not it’ll result in an immediate cock slap to the cheek.” He pleads, and it’s a sentence that shouldn’t exist but does— and Dan’s a bit glad about it, actually.

He can hear something, some choice words that Dan is pretending he can’t actually here and then— “I’m Phil.”

“Alright, Phil. I’m Dan.”

“Ok, just thought... well. You might be about to get a look at my penis so, yeah, we should be on a first name basis.” So Dan had just brushed his knuckle against _something_ , and this Phil dude had either decided to ignore that or—honestly Dan doesn’t know the alternative. 

“Did I—“ because he’s desperate to know.

“Yes.” 

“Right, sorry about that.”

“It’s fine, most action i’ve got in months.” He laughs, and it’s a nice sound, one that makes Dan glad it’s him and no one else currently living inside his ceiling.

“I’ll turn around the second I get you down here.”

-

“Did you just see?” Phil demands, because it’d all happened rather quickly and the smooth transition of out of ceiling and pull up pants didn’t work that well.

“I mean— saw a bit.”

“So much for me and my mysterious penis.” 

“I mean, I think it might’ve just been some ballsack. If that makes you feel any better?”

Phil pauses, properly properly thinks about it— like they’re on who wants to be a millionaire and this is the final question. “Yes.” He decides. “Cos it’s like.. my penis protecter, if you’re seeing that you’re not seeing actual cock.”

Dan just stares, stares until Phil stares back. But he doesn’t seem to be getting it, Dan’s secret message of _how does your stuff work down there._ “Your balls are literally behind the dick, like ninety nine percent of the time you’re seeing dick before you’re seeing balls.”

“Not if you’re getting wanked off from behind.” Phil answers, and it’s so confident that Dan sort of just— no, he’s not letting it drop.

“Who is choosing the difficult option here? Like— for fucks sake, who is giving you a hand job but from behind?” He sounds on the edge of insanity— but in a way that’s fun, in a way that makes him feel more alive than he has in a month.

“I don’t know.” Phil shrugs. “People who like art.” 

And Dan wants to say he’s a fan of art but that doesn’t mean his method of choice is a reach around, but Phil’s already off doing— something. 

“Oh! Your bathroom is like the exact same as mine.” He sounds pleased about it, like he’s plotting to swap them around when Dan isn’t looking. Give himself this shiny only slightly damaged one, leave Dan with the hole in the floor one.

“Well, yeah, we live in the same apartment building.” Dan snorts, catches Phil by the scruff of his neck because he’s two seconds away from rooting through his medicine cabinet. “Your floor wasn’t a portal to another dimension.” 

“You’re so grabby.” Phil is trying to wrangle himself free, and it’s all a bit weird because he’s _not_ wearing a t-shirt. Dan literally has him by.. neck skin, holding him like a newborn kitten who got a bit too eager to explore. “I was just looking for a plaster.”

“Er— why?” 

“Bleeding.”

“Oh god, you are.” Dan hadn’t noticed it before, too busy starting at— everything, honestly. His face, his arms and briefly his ballsack. He’s just a bit distracting, someone Dan’s brain is already storing away for the wet dreams he still has at twenty-nine.

Looking at Phil just confirms everything. 

“I am, castrate the wound before I bleed out.” 

He’s at the point, already, where he knows that’s not even a joke. It’s just whatever Phil’s brain is up to, but it still makes him laugh— still makes him get all handsy as he pushes Phil over to sit on the edge of his bath. 

“Cauterize.” 

“That’s what I said.” 

“No.” Dan crouches down in front of him, and it all feels a bit intimate in a way he’s not equipped to deal with right now—been a while, Phil pretty. “You just told me to cut your testicles off.” 

“You’re so obsessed with my balls, what’s your deal?”

“Oh, shutup, idiot.” Dan presses a gentle hand to Phil’s chest, pulls the skin taut so he can work out whether or not this calls for bath tub DIY or actual A&E. “How were you so fucking calm up there, this is like.. kinda deep.” 

“I just thought well this is happening, and then I got a bit scared. I thought maybe if I panicked and stuff it’d pull me in more, you know like quick sand—or the things in harry potter.” Phil explains, looks about two seconds away from crying as Dan presses an anti-septic wipe to his shoulder. “My therapist said don’t panic just.. be chill— but not quite that wording.”

“You have a therapist?” Dans inquires, nosey because he can’t help it— because Phil has been nothing but endlessly fascinating up to now. 

“Ya.” 

“Yaaaaaaas.”

Phil giggles, actually properly giggles like— like he enjoys life. “My therapist doesn’t get memes, I have to speak in normal people language when she asks me about feelings. Like ok, Susan, why can’t I just slap a photo of a tweet down on the table and say mood. Why can’t you get that?”

“Mood.”

“Be my therapist.” Phil squeezes his eyes shut, lifts a hand that nearly whacks Dan in the face— presses it against his forehead. “What am I thinking right now?”

“You’re thinking wow how did I get so lucky to fall into the bathroom of the nicest guy in the world? Not only was he gracious about seeing my balls, but he’s also not telling you he doesn’t have the power of osmosis.” Dan can’t even begin to object to whatever is happening right now, not when Phil’s hand feels so— it just feels nice. 

He might be touch starved. 

“That didn’t even make sense.” He’s still got his eyes squeezed shut, so Dan takes the chance to properly look. He’s quite a simple man, he sees pretty and his heart _wants._

He thinks the opposite of this here, right now, should be happening. He should be going a little bit insane, he should be shouting and screaming and— panicking. He should absolutely be panicking. Instead he’s crouched down in front of a man he’d quite like to keep here, who he’d quite like to hear speak forever. 

“You don’t make sense. Open your eyes, dumbo.” And it’s nothing to do with Dan wanting to see them again, to check if there’s a bit of yellow whilst they’re up this close and personal. 

“My therapist is nice to me.”

“Mine isn’t.”

“Oh?” Phil suddenly sounds interested, like every bit of new Dan knowledge is worth something. “What for— I mean, sorry, don’t answer that. Nosey.”

“I’ll answer it on one condition.” Dan replies, pulls backs so he can be all serious— proper eye contact and everything.

Phil follows right in Dan’s footstep, very much in-tune with— everything. All Dan has done up to now. He meets his gaze, offers a smile that is just.. a smile. Not something encouraging, not trying to force Dan to open up, just smile cos Phil thinks he’s worth smiling at. “Which is?”

“We have to agree my bathroom is now a liminal space, nothing that happens in here exists outside of here.” Dan doesn’t know why he’s so eager to overshare, why he wants to spill his guts out to a man he’s known for barely half an hour. Maybe it’s because he’s not had this for a while, someone who's interested enough to _ask_. Maybe it’s because there’s _something_ about Phil he just can’t put his finger on, maybe it’s because Phil is unlike anyone Dan has ever met before.

“Why would I not to agree to that? I have embarrassed myself like nine times in here already.”

“Fair.” Dan laughs, all crinkles round the eyes and dimples— cos Phil gets the dimples. “I’m like depressed, and shit.” 

“And shit.” Phil mimics, then there’s a soft hand on Dan’s shoulder— a squeeze that feels like the beginning of _something._ “I’m there cos i’m just like oh no not the general public.”

“I’m the general public.”

“Yeah, but I couldn’t have made this situation anymore awkward if I tried. Do you remember my legs just hanging there?” 

“Yeah. I was there.” Dan smiles, all soft and stupid because— he doesn’t know. He just can’t help his face around Phil, apparently, fondness taking over before he even has the chance to ask _why._ “But also it could’ve been worse cos I could’ve actually been in the shower, could’ve straight up killed me with my own floor.”

“Oh no.” Something like realisation settles on Phil’s face, he looks a bit deer in the headlights— in an unfairly hot way. “Do you think if i’d have killed you—Do you think I’d get arrested even though I definitely didn’t mean it. I just wanted a bath.”

“Oi! Don’t just think of yourself here.” Dan chastises, flicks Phil right in the ear when he tries to object. “I’m dead in the shower and it’s all about you, huh?”

“I am sorry for killing you when you were just trying to enjoy a nice spray.”

“Forgiven.” 

There’s a comfortable silence after that, as Dan patches Phil up and Phil just—watches. Seems to be debating on whether or not to say what he wants to say.

“Don’t laugh.” Phil glares, or at least he tries to— it’s more a nonthreatening squint. “I just— wanna get over it a bit, the whole.. general public thing. Just enough that I can actually go to pride this year and not spend the whole time fighting my own brain to just behave itself.” 

“Ah.” Dan ignores the way his heart speeds up, ignores the urge to essentially _hey same hat_ the guy. “I went last year for the first time and it was— fuck. It was really fucking nice, you know? A lot of people, but all nice and good people.” 

“Oh.” When Dan looks up Phil is staring right back at him, looking softer than before—looking _knowing_. “You might have to take me with you next time, hold my hand so I don’t get lost. You gotta hold it tight though cos I get distracted by shiny things.”

“Like a magpie?” 

“I suppose like a magpie.” Phil nudges Dan’s knee with his bare foot, something more intimate than most of Dan’s one stands combined. Something to do with all the bravado on Phil’s face being taken over by something bashful, something sincere. “I just thought that— maybe, like. I suppose if I was being held by the most shiny thing then I wouldn’t be distracted by anything else.” 

“Well, fuck. Am I getting hit on by a guy who causes structural damage to my bathroom?” Dan hopes he says yes, hopes he’s living in his own personal rom-com because it’s been a goddamn year— he deserves it. 

“Only if you’re receptive to getting hit on by a guy who is a bit covered in dry wall, dry ceiling—floor? Like.. construction stuff.” Phil sounds nervous, and Dan wants to laugh because he has no reason to be. Dan wears his heart on his sleeve and right now it’s out for all to see, obvious and stupid and— full of hope. 

“We should be calling people shouldn’t we? Not flirting in my bathroom but— god. I wanna keep flirting with you in my bathroom.” 

“Is it bad to say this isn’t the worst thing that’s ever happened to me? Without it I would never have known about my cute neighbour.”

Dan isn’t blushing, apart from he can feel the rosy patch on his jaw burning like an absolute traitor. 

-

They end up sat on Dan’s sofa, trying to psych each other up to call the landlord. Phil thinks Dan should do it because apparently he has a more official phone voice, and Dan thinks Phil should do it because he was the one to fall through the fucking floor. 

Phil buries his hands in the pocket of the hoodie he’s stolen from Dan, says they’re stuck there so he can’t hold a phone right now. 

Dan just— confrontation sounds bad today. 

They both settle on leaving it for a little while longer. 

“Are you the dude with the piano? I hear it sometimes.” 

“Stop perceiving me. Is it that loud? God, sorry for being shit.” 

“No.” Phil wriggles about, pushes his toes beneath Dan’s thighs, gets himself all comfy on the sofa— he suits it. Suits making himself at home in Dan’s apartment. “You’re not, you’re good. I like listening to you, sometimes I fall asleep to it.”

“Oh.” Dan turns a bit pink, something about being complimented on his true love— or something. Not that he thinks he’s any good, just getting better. “If you’d like to, you can post a request through our ceiling hole.” 

“We keeping it, then?” Phil smiles, looks as content to be here as Dan is content to have him here. “You’ll have to shout when you’re having a piss, or.. the other thing.”

“I don’t do the other thing, that’s too undignified. I simply refuse to shit.” Dan delights in the laugh it gets, the ways Phil’s eyes crinkle, the way his tongue makes an appearance. It’s just all hitting Dan’s buttons— cute, hot, charming, _weird._

“Didn’t know I lived above the queen.” 

“I am a queen.” Dan puts on an entire act, goes through the motions of waving like royalty, of balancing a pillow on his head because who the fuck owns a crown? He just wants Phil to keep— to stay. And that’s probably the desperation in him talking, that no one barely entertains his antics these days. People get into his bed, climb out the next morning without so much of a goodbye. 

It suited him, for a long time. Now he wants more, someone to be an idiot with— often Dan thinks companionship should be at the top of Maslows Hierachy of Needs.

“You’re pretty enough to be on a stamp.” Phil can just say stuff, say it all out loud without a shred of any doubt. He can sit on the sofa and call Dan pretty just like that, and Dan can accept it today— can accept it from him.

And it really has to be a rom-com, probably people sat in a cinema right now watching them be stupid and fall for each other after an hour. Dan doesn't care, though, that it’s all a bit unrealistic—the whole ceiling part aside. He just cares that his heart feels fuller than it has in a long time, that he can’t remember how long ago it was that someone sat on his sofa and laughed with him.

“The flirting transcends the bathroom, then?” Dan asks, because he’s feeling a bit brave today. He’s let too many things slip away, not dived in head first when he should’ve. So today he will, today he’ll dive into everything Phil has to offer him. 

“I’m hoping it does, because I think anyone else would’ve like.. called the police, not given me their clothes.” Phil shifts until he’s sat cross legged right beside Dan, until he’s close enough to reach out and places a hand on his knee— close enough for Dan to know where this is going. 

“I don’t kiss on my first ceiling fall through, gotta fall through at least twice more before you do that.” But he places a hand over the hand on his knee anyway, gets too close for the whole not kissing thing. 

“If I do that two more times then we won’t have a ceiling for me to fall through, landlord will make us live in the sewers.” Phil tilts his head, turns his palm— easily persuades Dan to hold his hand whilst there’s currently a disaster in his bathroom.

Maybe it should always be this easy— love, or not yet love. Something that feels like the start of something. 

Dan just feels seen, and he wants to melt into the feeling. 

“Fuck, we really should call him, shouldn’t we?”

“Mhm, yeah, in a bit.” 

They eventually end up not kissing, because Dan’s afraid to ruin the moment. To kiss Phil and not feel anything when he’s currently feeling so much. 

Phil just moves back to his spot, proceeds to jam his toes back beneath Dan’s legs. 

“What’d you do? Professional piano man?”  
  
“God.” Dan snorts, shaking his head. “I wish, no, i’m a games journalist. I like.. Do reviews, and shit. I don’t know why i’m saying I wish, it’s a good job. I get all the new stuff early.”  
  
“I have never been so jealous of anyone in my life, i’m a video editor and the only early things I get are adverts for like.. Shampoo, or drain unblocker.” 

They talk, talk for too too long. Phil weasels his way into Dan’s cupboards, sits in awe as he looks through the amassed game collection. Convinces Dan to let him play a new release - a proper isn’t even out yet game. 

They get bullied into ending things when they hear a crash, when the water has seeped through enough to make a bit more ceiling fall through.

-

“So, i’ll see you soon? Phil asks, stood all sheepish in the doorway wearing clothes that don’t belong to him— Dan thinks this must be what meeting the love of your life feels like. 

“Yeah.” Dan smiles. “But you know next time you can use the front door.”

“That’s for amateurs.” 

Dan just pokes him, pushes him out before he does actually kiss him— cos he sort of feels like if he does that then he’ll never want to let him leave. It’s better saved till next time, till next time when— fuck it.

He grabs Phil by the neck of his own hoodie, pulls him in for a kiss that’s all wrong. That’s teeth clacking, that’s Phil almost losing his balance and falling straight into Dan’s chest— that’s perfect all the same. Just feels right, has Dan feeling something settle in his chest that has always been a little unruly before. 

“Oh.” Phil finally seems dazed, brushes his thumb against his own bottom lip— just to check, just to be certain. “I’ll definitely see you soon, god, can soon be right now?”

“No. Remember you agreed to call the landlord when I let you play a game— you know the whole thing that could cost me my job if it got out.” Dan grins, because he honestly can’t help it— a grin that grows impossibly bigger when Phil pokes a finger right into his left dimple. “Jesus. You going to sixty-ninth base in my doorway?”

“Couldn’t resist. You’re too pretty for your own good, you know that?” Phil’s poke turns into something softer, into his cupping his cheek, leaning in again for something less chaotic than the first. 

This time it’s Dan who’s left dizzy, who’s left wondering what on earth he did to deserve both the most disastrous day and the best day of all time. “Can I make a confession?”

“Yes, my child.”

“Oh, shutup.” Dan tries to give it some bite, but it just comes on disgustingly fond. “I did see your dick.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their landlord is pissed. Goes absolutely balls-to-the-wall ballistic when he sees the damage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh hi! apparently..... lots of people wanted a sequel to this? which. thanks so much ;_; i'm glad people like the first chapter enough to actually want more!

Their landlord is pissed. Goes absolutely balls-to-the-wall ballistic when he sees the damage. Dan doesn’t really understand why _he’s_ in trouble, when Phil was the one who actually fell through the ceiling. They’re just apparently a double-team, which, fair enough. Both of them had ended up calling up to awkwardly explain the damage, which apparently equates to holding hands and kissing down the phone-line.

Which, yeah, but they only kissed once and that was when they were put on hold. 

They both move out once the five months on their separate leases are up.

And everyone says it’s too soon, that moving in so quickly is just asking for trouble, that they’ll get sick of each other and—it’s all crap. No one else could possibly understand the intimacy involved in falling through another man’s ceiling, how it’d essentially felt like living through an entire six months in a day.

In the structural disaster alternative universe, this relationship has actually been going on for just over a year. And it is a proper relationship, despite what the other people in Dan’s life like to say. It’s official, and everything. Phil had asked Dan to be his boyfriend mid-fuck, later claimed it was very romantic to be literally buried inside of someone when they said _yes._

So, now, they’re both here. In an apartment without a dodgy floor, without an obvious bad patching job done with cheap plaster. Phil lived on the edge for months, constantly feared going through it again—at least that’s what he claims. Dan thinks Phil just wanted to be in his flat as much as humanly possible.

Which he was, because Dan enjoyed it, having someone there. It was routine, they’d basically already lived together. To begin with, every day for a month Dan came home from work to Phil eagerly waiting outside his door, ready to be let in to talk about _everything_ —to eat Dan’s food, to play on a game he shouldn’t be playing on. 

One day Dan diverted his journey on the way back to his flat, got Phil a key cut. Then he’d started to come home to Phil stood in his kitchen, wearing an apron that didn’t belong to him, making them both dinner. So, yeah, they’d essentially already lived together for five months. This wasn’t any different.

Apart from it was different in a sense that it felt more… secure. Dan obsessed with knowing they have an actual bed to share, and that they have to share it every night. There wasn’t any conversation about _oh, you going back to your own flat, you want to stay here?_ Because now they’d signed on the dotted line, were paying joint rent to a new landlord. 

Now Phil’s always going to be staying here, because it’s his home.

-

“Do you think—hm.” Phil starts, then changes his mind. “Doesn’t matter.”

“No, go on.” Dan prods Phil’s thighs with his toes. “Tell.” 

“I dunno, was thinking about quitting.” 

“Oh?” Dan asks, wriggling around on the sofa—this feels like a sitting up conversation. “You do hate it there.”

“Yeah.” 

Because Phil does, it pays the bills but it doesn’t pay—his head. Which isn’t a thing, but it should be a thing. Your job should pay your mental health, but in a good way, in a nice way, in a way that isn’t pulling your hair out whilst you stare at the same three frames of a crappy advert. 

Because, yeah, Phil puts his all into everything he does. But an advert about soap isn’t ever going to be exciting— no matter how much Phil insists on putting in a little green alien. 

“And do what?” Dan asks. “Not trying to be like—a dick. But.”

“No, no. I know.” Phil waves his hand around like he always does, thinks Dan is well versed enough in Phil language to understand what that means—he is. 

“Still thinking about movie stuff?”

“Mhm, sometimes.” Phil sighs, burrows down into the neck of his hoodie. That’s what he does to avoid conversations he doesn’t really want to have, tries to physically camouflage himself. “Ignore me, not gonna quit. But i’ll look for something else, no quitting until—you know.”

“I know.” Dan says with a smile, wishes he could do more than just be the supportive boyfriend. He thinks, in his line of work, he should have more ties. Should be able to set Phil up with something that isn’t being really enthusiastic about that new line of funky dishwasher tablets. “Want me to bust out my speech about how capitalism sucks again?”

“Noooo, I think if I close my eyes I can see it all. Like the end credits of a movie.” Phil laughs, and it’s—nice. Sometimes Dan wonders how this all came about, how he ended up finding someone so attuned to everything he is. He knows it was technically the ceiling, but—fate, maybe. 

“Actually think we should open up a business.”

“Oh, really? For what?”

“Yeah, a match making service, _soulmate finding glory holes._ ” Dan suggests, giggles when Phil decides that sentence was enough to start an all out war. Not that he minds, not that he’ll ever complain when Phil clambers all over him. 

It starts as a fight, as a _I hate everything you just said and I want revenge for it fight_. It starts with Phil’s fingers, burying beneath Dan’s armpits, with Dan squealing about how this is definite _babuse_ , how they should take a time out because he _wasn’t actually ready._

But what starts as war, easily dissolves into _oh, yeah, we’re properly in love._ It’s always Phil who breaks first, who will cup Dan’s jaw with gentle fingers, who will lean in with whispered apologies for all the evil hand business. 

It’s easy to melt beneath him, for Dan to just part his lips and let it turn into a different kind of something. This sofa has seen many things, but it’s mainly seen rushed hand jobs because they’re both too lazy to move to the bedroom. 

Today is no exception. 

“Your turn to go get tissue.” Dan’s heart is going too fast, at an alarming rate. It used to take a lot to work him up quite this much, men used to have to pull out all the fucking tricks, but now he’s a heaving mess because of a simple fucking hand. 

“It’s always my turn.”

“Cos you’re always on top.” Dan giggles, prods and pokes until Phil gets up. Just sits there in a weird haze until Phil returns to clean up all the mess.

-

“Do you think we could’ve actually— you know, glory-holed it?” Phil asks later that night, when they’re both tucked up in bed. 

“Wot?”

“The ceiling! Like I know, that’s not how a conventional glory hole… works?” Phil sounds unsure, a definite rise in tone at the end—a question Dan doesn’t even want to answer. 

“I dunno.” Dan rolls over onto his stomach, propping himself up on his elbow, chin resting in his hand. It’s just asking for pins and needles. “What’s a conventional glory hole.”

“You know!” Phil exclaims, and Dan _does_ know but he still wants to hear what Phil thinks. He falters when he realises Dan isn’t going to help out here, opens his mouth, then closes it. “A cock hole.”

“Yeah? Wow.”Dan goes all wide-eyed. “Really?”

“Shutup.” Phil grumbles. “You literally know what a glory hole is, i’ve seen your internet history.”

“Then you must know what a furry is.” Dan yawns, it’s too late for this—but isn’t it always? Their life consists of two constants. That is each other, and having stupid conversations when they’re asleep. “The ceiling hole was too big.”

“Yeah, but.” Phil frowns. “If—you know, if i’d have fallen a little bit more… my dick would’ve been just there.”

“Yeah.”

“And if you’d have—I dunno, put it in your mouth, without seeing my face… it would be the definition of a glory hole?” Phil asks, but Dan really isn’t sure who it’s aimed at. “Cos it’s like an anonymous dick hole, but bigger.”

“I—“ Dan starts, but then he finds he really can’t fault the logic. Because he couldn't see Phil’s face, he was _technically_ in a hole. “Would you have let me? If you had fallen a bit further.”

“Let you suck my dick? God—dunno, maybe?” 

“Maybe.” Dan repeats.

“Yes? Oh, is that bad. I heard your voice and was like… oh, that’s sort of hot. So I probably would’ve let you suck me off based on voice alone.” Phil admits, and Dan has no idea why Phil’s gone so fucking red. Dan’s had his dick in his mouth more times than he can possibly count. “And after I knew you were, like, twenty-nine.” 

“Nice.” Dan laughs. “Now go to sleep, we’ll work out how we can recreate the situation, so I can suck your anonymous dick, tomorrow.” 

-

Dick conversations get forgotten because Phil remembers something else.

“Are we gonna go?” He’s got a little flier clutched in his hand, something bright, something covered in half naked people. Dan already know what it is without being told. 

“To pride? If that’s still what you want, if you feel ready, yeah.”

And they’ve both gotten better the last few months. Dan thinks Phil’s ready, but he won’t force it. 

“I—yeah, if you come with me.” 

“Of course I’ll come with you, don’t want to be holding anyone else’s hand.” Dan explains, but he thinks that really should’ve been obvious.

-

It’s three weeks later and Dan finds himself with glitter lodged directly in his eyeball, trusting Phil with this was a disaster—but Dan had gone along with it anyway. 

“Ow, fuck, spray fucking—put me under the tap.” 

“It’s ok, it’s ok.” Phil soothes, but it isn’t ok because Dan just has his boyfriend blowing on his eyeball in a way that really isn’t helping at all. It’s just making his eyes wetter. 

“You’re going—fuck, put your fingers in there.”

“What?” Phil asks, alarmed. And he shouldn’t be, because Dan watches him fish out those contact lenses every goddamn night. “What if I stab you?”

“I’m already being stabbed! Just—“ Dan doesn’t get chance to finish his sentence, learns how weird it feels to have someone else touch his eyeball. But it works, it’s out. 

“Maybe you should be in charge of make-up.” Phil says, quietly. Discreetly wiping the Dan eye goo off his finger, and right onto his pyjama bottoms. 

So Dan takes over, and he thinks he does an actual good job with it all. Maybe he should become a colour matching expert, because he’s really made Phil’s eyes pop. 

“You look—ugh, you’re so pretty.” Dan sighs, like it’s really his cross to bear. Having a beautiful boyfriend should earn him some sort of medal. “You feel alright?”

Phil doesn’t answer, too busy admiring himself in the mirror. It makes Dan’s heart go all flippy-floppy, seeing the one you love realise just how amazing they are. Them finally seeing what you’ve seen for so long. 

“You made me look so shiny.” Phil says, fingers gently tapping along his cheekbones, amongst all the highlighter and glitter. “Like a disco ball.” 

Dan laughs, pulls himself up from where he’d been using the toilet as a chair. “Love it?” He asks, coming up behind him, wrapping his arms around Phil’s waist. Dan takes a second to just stare at their reflections, removes himself from his own head so he can appreciate how—good they are together. How they match, how they look like a proper couple. 

“Yeah.” Phil tips his head back, presses a kiss to Dan’s jaw. “We look like matching disco balls in a gay disco, maybe it’ll have a glory hole.”

“God, do you want me to actually give you a glory hole experience?” 

“Thinking about it.” Phil confirms.

They don’t have much more time to think, though, already running behind after the whole glitter in eye situation. 

Getting the tube during pride is, like, the top tier public transport experience. So many people on there who are like Dan and Phil, who are dressed head to toe in rainbow, covered in too much glitter. It’s a proper sense of belonging, this knowing you live in a city that’s filled with people who understand. 

“Dare you to lick the pole.” 

“No!”

“Boring.”

They’re stood up, all the seats taken up by people in costumes far more elaborate than their own. Dan’s never seen quite so many feathers in his life. 

They still dressed up for the occasion, though, still went as far as they were both willing to go. Stretched out their boundaries, dipped their toe into the gay pond. Dan thinks this is enough, that they’re enough. That Phil wrapped up in glitter, in a tight colourful shirt and shorts that might be a bit _too_ short, is enough. 

“How you feeling?” Dan asks, a hand on Phil’s hip—this tiny hint of a PDA, something they both usually shy away from. But here it’s fine, here no one even looks their way. Here there’s two women necking in the middle of the tube, and people are just cheering them on. 

“Good, I think. Excited. Nervous. Vibrating, a little.”

“I told you to not put that buttplug in.” Dan laughs.

“Can you get vibrating buttplugs?” Phil asks, but apparently they’re talking too loud because someone shouts _yes._

_-_

It’s busy, really fucking busy—which, expected. But it’s peaceful, despite that. 

“Ooooo, I want—“ Phil’s off somewhere, dragging Dan along with him. And Dan should’ve known he’d be an absolute fiend for the freebies, shouldn’t have offered to carry the backpack. Its’ already filled with shit, with enough magnets to fill three fridges. 

But Dan can’t complain, not when Phil looks so happy, so in his element. He’s spoken to people, he’s taken part in things, he’s been _loud_ , but not once has he let go of Dan’s hand. 

“Ugh. Phil, i’ve never even seen you write with an actual pen.” But that doesn’t matter, because Phil is taking one. 

“Maybe—i’ll just start writing letters.” Phil says, his justification for the stationary store going on on Dan’s back right now.

“To who?” Dan shouts over the sudden barrage of airhorns. 

“I dunno, your mum.”

“Oi, we’re supposed to be having a nice fun time.” Dan’s laughing, though, because he’s easy for Phil. Because everything Phil says is funny, even when it’s really not. “Where we going next?”

They end up pressed against a barrier, actually watching the parade as opposed to just skulking about on the outskirts. 

“Wanna be a leather daddy?” Dan asks as a group pass by. 

“Erm—no, too sweaty.” 

Dan snorts, but keeps quiet. Now he might be imagining Phil dressed up, just a bit, but that’s his own business. Ten minutes in and they get approached by a drag queen who tells them they’re beautiful together, and it does more for Dan’s ego than anything else ever could. 

They all get a photo together, and a couple of kisses on the cheek. 

“Well, there you go, you can die happy now. Compliment from a drag queen means you’ve gotta be doing something right.” Dan holds his phone for a moments, hovers over the photos before deciding fuck it, post it to Instagram. The people in his life no longer just get to see the quiet, watered down version of himself and feel like they’re good people for _accepting_ that. 

“I am very handsome.” Phil agrees, and it makes Dan hyena laugh in the middle of a massive crowd. 

They hang around for a while longer, empty out all the change from their pockets when the charity bucket comes over their way. Watch a man lose it on a pair of stilts and nearly end up going straight through a window. 

They only leave when Phil’s stomach starts to complain about the fact they’ve only really eaten free handed out lollipops today. 

“Wanna go get lunch? I know a place.”

Dan had come here last time he went to pride, it was somewhere more hidden away than everywhere else, didn’t end up quite as busy. Phil sits in in the seat opposite him, a sweaty mess. Quiff dropping, a button from his shirt somehow gone walkabout, glitter smeared everywhere. Dan is so unbelievably in love, he thinks he might actually be the most in love anyone has ever been.

“What?” Phil asks, self-consciously reaching up to fix his hair.

“Nothing.” Dan smiles. “Just love you.” 

Phil ducks his head, tries to hide how red he’s just gone. And it’s nothing new, both been saying it way before they were probably supposed to— but it’s new in public. 

“Love you, too.” Phil finally gets out, once he’s recovered. “But, I might not soon… might, like, turn evil if you don’t feed me.”

“Like a gremlin?”

“Exactly.” 

They get too much food, because everything had just looked so fucking good. It’s halfway through the meal that it happens, Phil staring down at his phone with so much excitement he’d unable to actually form a sentence.

“Oi, earth to Phil.” Dan bumps their knees together beneath the table. “What is happening? You literally just stopped mid chew.”

Phil seems to realise then, swallows the half chewed up sandwich in his mouth. “Fuck. You know that job I applied for a few weeks ago? The one—the actual proper, like, you can edit shows and movies job. Not just tv adverts about dancing loaves on bread.”

“Yeah?” And Dan thinks he knows where this is going, but he really wants to hear it all come from Phil’s mouth. 

“They just emailed me, asked if I can go in next week for an interview.” 

-

“This could work, don’t you think?” Phil asks, knuckles rapping against the wooden divider in the corner of the bedroom. Once upon a time Dan had had a flatmate who burst in without knocking, caught Dan mid getting dressed a few times too many. Now it’s just decorative, now it still exists cos it cost too much for Dan to even think about getting rid of.

“For what?”

“Like— it’s big, and, hidden? If we drilled a big enough hole in the thing, it could work for the whole anonymous dick hole thing.”

“Oh, right.” Dan murmurs. “Glory hole time, then?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [if u wanna reblog on tumblr i always appreciate it!](https://fictropes.tumblr.com/post/639854503218331648/the-benefits-of-a-weak-floor-now-with-a-chapter)
> 
> Phil 'booty shorts' lester. eeeee,ok this is officially the end of the gloryhole universe - someone write the actual gloryholing???? please.. ????
> 
> as always, lemme know your thoughts! and i hope this lived up the just absolute weirdness of the first part ;_;


End file.
